Study in Blue
by TheRavenNevrmor
Summary: Two of the universes most unique men. Both alone, wondering, stubborn, and absolutely brilliant; cross paths on a case. Is it love at first sight? Or new arch nemesis?
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Sherlock!" John's voice rang out as he sat up in his bed, drenched in sweat. He was panting heavily and had to close his grey blue eyes and let out a sigh. It had been nearly two years, and he had not stopped dreaming about it. The frequency of his nightmares has diminished substantially, however when they resurfaced they did so with vigor. The memory was still so fresh in his mind, despite having been bleary at the time, of Sherlock, sprawled on the pavement the blood that pooled around him. John let out a hefty sob like sound as he lay back into his bed and put his hands on his face.

"Jesus….Sherlock. Jesus." His whispers were swallowed by the hallow room of the simple apartment he had taken residence in. He couldn't bear to be back at Baker Street alone. He had certainly tried, but he would wake to the sounds of a violin that he knew he had only dreamt. It would have driven him crazy to stay, as it was every now and again the ring of his ex-best friend's deep voice would echo through his head. "Boring". "Idiot." "Look John. Just Look." Besides he was trying to move on trying to forget. He'd secured a steady job at a clinic. Even had a girl he fancied. So why he was still plagued with these nightmares? His guilt eluded him. He could understand why his hand shook sometimes; why now and again he would have a pang in his heart when he saw a particularly strange case in the newspaper. Nostalgia was expected, but why was it that he felt so hopelessly _guilty_. It was a question that had been swimming around his head for months now and each time he attempted to answer he came up more clueless then the time before.

He rubbed his hands across his tired eyes and into his sandy hair letting out another sigh as he glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand with disdain. Three in the morning? And he probably wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

With a grunt he settled back into the bed and let his eyes rest on the ceiling and let his mind wonder back to the days of clue hunting.


	2. Chapter 1

Doctor who…. Doctor who?

That was the question. The question that had raged on like a fire in the Detectives mind for almost a year now.

Most thought he was simply a myth, because what they were purposing was preposterous. A Super hero with a blue box a magician with a magic wand. That's what some said. Others said he was a god. Others a ghost.

And there were some who believed he was simply a mad man.

They were half right. But there was one man, a man who had spent hours upon hours sitting in his flat staring at a collage of pictures and string. Pictures of men, from all throughout time, but only ten men. Ten men who had been captured in time. In ancient Rome and Modern day London. And smack in the middle was one particular man with spike brown hair and a long brown coat…a female was always on his arm. At one point it was a blond.

Rose Tyler.

Public record said deceased. However there had been no body, no proof. But she was gone. Poof nowhere to be seen.

The other female Martha Jones…. Now military. But she had gotten that position far too easily and what exactly she did was a mystery in itself, her records were a mess of redactions

Donna Nobel. The most recent to be spotted with the mysterious Doctor. A temp… as usual their seemed to be nothing special about her. Accept she had recently shown back up. The Doctor nowhere in sight. And when he had discreetly made conversation one day, he found it seemed she knew absolutely nothing about the man.

Damn.

Sherlock Holmes….. The world's most brilliant mind and he couldn't seem to make any sense of it! It had taken many long nights. He had broken many lamps. Irritated the hell out of his neighbors.

At the moment he was living just north of Cardiff, in a rather nice side of town. He had been there a few months. It had been almost two years since he had gone home… if he could even call it that anymore. After faking his death to save his best friend and take down in arch enemy's underground network, he was not sure if he had a place to call home anymore.

He could have gone back a months ago… he had taken care of all of Moriarty's underground trading posts and all of his men… but this had picked up his attention. This mysterious 'Doctor' fellow had a file everywhere. Moriarty had obviously been interested in him. Sherlock had figure that it was a confidant, maybe even a partner. Yet the more he learned and read the more he found that couldn't be true. No…not a partner, not a friend. But a rival. The thought of another man that could possible rival his arch nemeses sort of rubbed him the wrong way. And peaked his interest. He had been traveling and gathering information for months now. He'd considered going back to find John, make him help even! But the time was never right. He couldn't pull away from his work just yet.

But tonight was the night. The night he met the Doctor. Because he had an ace in the hole.

Whatever this Doctor was doing, it was obvious he liked a good case. The same as Sherlock. That was why he knew, he just knew the Doctor had to show tonight.

He had caught wind of a travel agency. Nothing large or well-known even. They simply had small offices sprinkled throughout England. However, for some reason or another they had people go missing left and right while on their suggested 'trips'. Sherlock had been snooping for about a week and it seemed like a front for human trafficking. Or at least that was the detective's hunch at the moment. He would see how right he was tonight. Sherlock had been working on infiltration for about a week. And by now he was able to just slip in without being noticed having picked an access card off of one of the higher ups while they had ordered a double shot espresso.

There was a guard sitting at a front desk, his feet were propped up, fast asleep. Didn't matter either way. Sherlock picked his jacket off the back on the chair with one delicate movement. Then snatched the hat off of his head with the same sly swipe, grabbing up his flashlight of the desk, then turned with a small snide smirk.

He left his jacket hanging on a coat hanger on the wall next to the desk along with the blue scarf that had been wrapped so carefully around his neck. This left the detective in a crisp white shirt, the top two buttons unbuttoned and a well-tailored spencer hart suit that clung to his thin toned figure in a rather attractive manor. He slid the guard's jacket on, and placed the hat atop his head pulling it down snuggly. His wavy black hair was pressed down, curled into his sharp cheekbones and killer cold eyes. Then he began for the service elevator. Walking with intent, swinging his flashlight leisurely. If there was one thing Sherlock Holmes was good at it was hiding in plain sight.

From what he had gathered over the past week of snooping the top three floors were, in fact, a travel agency, with real people working there, though of course not at this hour. It was the three sub floors that he needed to get too. And to do that he used the key card he'd slipped. He walked quickly through the empty halls, each footstep made a soft echo but he wasn't worried even if he was to be walked up on the costume would create confusion and if for some reason it didn't sufficiently subdue the questioner, he'd do it the rough way. Sherlock Slid into the elevator, slipped the card, and he was on his way.

He carefully stepped out of the elevator on each floor, scrutinizing his surroundings. The first sub-floor would not be anything terribly strange. Meeting place. Second looked like…. Shipping, possibly, packaging.

But the third.

As Sherlock stepped off the elevator onto the third floor the smell hit his nostrils. It was something distinct. Sweat, bile, fear, and disinfectant. A common list, he had found, amongst crime scenes. He crinkled his nose but did not pause in continuing round the corner of the hallway into the large industrial room, where, the smell made far more sense. There was row after row of people in cages. Numbers that bypassed his estimates and research exponentially. He was not, however, in any way taken aback; only slightly peeved that he had underestimated so severely. With a quick look around he found that most of the people were unconscious and he assumed drugged, with that many people having them awake would be noisy. He was glad, the possibility of savior always made people recklessly loud.

He looked up from the shadows of cages to the middle of the large warehouse. There, in the very center, was an elevated office, glass on all four walls, and a single stairway to a single door. Sherlock's poisonous green eyes narrowed in disdain. That would not be easy to sneak up on, especially considering the five people on the inside.

He huffed softly, all thoughts of the Doctor left him as he attempted to weigh his options to come up with a new plan of action.


	3. Chapter 2

The Doctor slammed up the switch on the main frame with a ferocity and the ship whirred to life, sending him from the planet he had spent the past two days on. Beautiful place, almost completely oceans, and red at that. Sunsets were quite a sight there. `

He'd had a successful adventure! Met a lovely species and saved a small pod of green whale like creatures. So he wasn't quite sure of the reason for his foul mood. He shoved a hand into the pocket of his brown trench coat with a huff, which seemed to echo, as his eyes scanned over the dingy, empty, consul room.

Who was he kidding, it was really no use lying to himself. He knew. First it was Rose... Rose, Rose, Rose, the name that was always on his tongue the voice always in the back of his head. The one that everyone who knew The Doctor had heard. Rose Tyler, his love, the person he missed more than... well, more than anyone. Just _thinking_ her name broke his hearts and he sighed pausing in his shark like circling of the main frame to close his eyes.

And then Martha. Martha Jones. Yeah, things were going great, he had thought. But he wasn't paying enough attention, he supposed, because things hadn't been so great. Why couldn't he see it? Catch the signs early? Because he was dense. He was dense and so, so thick. She had loved him, and he… well, he just didn't love her. Not to mention he hadn't even caught on until she was leaving him. His jaw tightened and his fists balled tightly, knuckles turning white with the memory. Only to be released again as he flexed his fingers.

Then Donna. Good 'ole Donna Noble. He had adored Donna. She may have been annoying, nitpicky, rude, and angry, but she was sassy. She matched so perfectly with his current personality. And he had needed someone. Someone to take care of him and keep him on track, and he had adored having her around. But all good things had to end for him, didn't they? No one could be with him for long, it seemed. And it was true. It was silly to think otherwise.

Even though they never escaped his thoughts, the Doctor had managed to block them from his mind. It had been two years for him since he had seen Donna. He had saved plenty of planets and people and even species, but it didn't seem... enough. The Doctor still had them in his head. The Doctor was still so... alone. He felt that loneliness heavy and thick. It was a feeling he knew far too well, and dreaded more than anything. He supposed it was the bed he'd made, and would have to lay in.

But he was pulled from his self-pitying thoughts by a small alert on his screen which he yanked over with a sniff.

"Always….always bloody earth."

The Doctor locked his ship and walked up the three story office building glancing up at it with his deep brown eyes. It seemed normal enough on the outside; so why had the address popped upon his screen, all the alert had said was 'abnormal'. He shrugged to himself and walked to a side entrance, using the sonic screwdriver to slip in and scan the area. There was alien tech in here, certainly, he wasn't sure what yet, just knew that it was there. Using his sonic he found his way into the elevator and with ease he made his way to the third floor. Silent and somber he rounded the corner and his eyes fell over the cages, where those people were…those poor people. It made the Doctor so angry, his thin lip pulled back in a disgusted snarl. How anybody could treat creatures like that were beyond him. Any creature. He didn't understand the general thoughtlessness and couldn't wait to figure out what awful self-centered species was at work here.

First he had to check on the people, however, and went up to one of the cages unlocking it as he glanced around, not seeing anybody, other than a few people in a floating office. But despite the glass walls of said office he wasn't worried about being seen, they seemed preoccupied. As he reached into the cage to grasp the wrist of the small young boy and his hearts rush with relief as he felt that he still had a pulse. He was cold, poorly dressed in a white t shirt and shorts, but alive. He glanced around,

"Hold on you lot, I'll get you out of here." He said softly even though he knew that they couldn't hear him.

It was only then that he noticed a bit of movement, on the stairs to the office. He had to squint in the dark warehouse but he was sure he had seen something. Yes! There! There was a person on the stairs…a man. What in the hell- wait…was that a security guard coat? Why would a security guard be ease dropping. It was only then that the guard from upstairs had flashed through his mind, no coat, no hat, no torch. The Doctor looked back up at the man who was pressed against the door to listen to the people on the other side, and wasn't sure if he should be excited or afraid to have help. He was sure that the man was trying to help, but it was always just another person to save…or lose.

He closed his eyes a moment and shook his head. He couldn't think like that, Donna would have told him to stop mopping, Martha would call him a drama queen, Rose would have rolled her eyes, scoffed and went to do the job that needed doing. He opened his eyes and tucked his sonic into the inside of his suit, and quickly began to slip through the shadows of metal boxes towards the stairwell. To meet up with the man he knew he'd end up working with.


End file.
